


and in the silence bind us

by templefugate



Series: I'd Kill for a Great-Great Grandpa Like Yours [1]
Category: Coco (2017), Disney - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Related, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Community: disney_kink, Drabble, Dreamwidth, Family Drama, Family Feels, Gen, One Shot, POV Alternating, Villains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-04 22:52:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14030595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/templefugate/pseuds/templefugate
Summary: What if Ernesto De La Cruz truly was Miguel's great-great grandfather? Few truly want to know that question's answer.





	and in the silence bind us

**Author's Note:**

> So I loved Coco and am ashamed to admit this is my first (published) fic for it. I rewatched it last week and was hit with all the feels. This is a plot bunny, partially inspired by a disney_kink prompt, that has yet to fully leave my mind. Angst and headcanons ahoy.
> 
> Also, please feel free to correct me if my Spanish is incorrect. I used word reference and Google translate, but those can only go so far.

Miguel's night ended in a flurry of marigold pedals. Sometime during the past few hours, the flicker of a dream in his chest had grown to a wildfire.

"Miguel de la Cruz, mi hijo, I give you my blessing," Ernesto spoke. The longer he spoke, the less the boy heard him. The ground beneath his feet was gone, a lightness washing over his body. No matter what his parents said or what his abuela destroyed, no one could take the dreams he held deep within his heart, that flowed through his very blood.

He spoke into a space neither the living nor dead could describe. "Te amo abuelo."

With any luck, the musician heard him.

-

Conditions swirled through his head - live up to the great guitar you hold so fondly in your hands, hide your talents at your own detriment, seize your moment. None ever met his lips. Few musicians truly knew the time when silence was needed - perhaps that was part of what separated him from the rest. Whatever he said, the boy didn't need to hear - someone like him reached for opportunities and grasped them harder than a miser did his gold. If anyone had a bright life ahead of him, it was him.

In a way, it was like looking into a mirror. It wasn't often that Ernesto thought back to his own youth, to the orphan boy who dreamed of escaping the pitying eyes of pedestrians and the own cold eyes that stared back from his tin cup. Were it not for the battered guitar in his hands perhaps they would not have dropped a single spare coin in it. Now, though, such memories could not be held back, just as even the strongest walls could not stop a hurricane.

At his feet, a dog yipped. Picking her up, he ran a hand down her back.

"What a night this has been."

A bark was his only response before a blanket of silence again descended. As if he were still alive, Ernesto took a deep breath in. As the way things were, with sunrise growing closer with each passing second, Ernesto doubted neither he nor his chico were going to get much calm in the impending future.

That realization could just have easily been a premonition.

First, his dogs barked, letting out yaps that could wake the dead. Then there was the heavy flapping of wings, something a more naive listener might attribute to an angel. Off in the far distance came a bell's steady ring, though Ernesto could only wonder if it reached anyone else's ears.

-

"Where is my great-great grandson?" If her voice was rough, then it was the last of the civility left in her that kept her from pulling off a shoe. "What in the nombre del infernio have you done with him?"

It was times like this that Imelda had to remember her principals. Never be a passive actor in one's own play, always find a solution to one's problem, and never make shoes for a musician. Her handiwork had graced the feet of Kahlo, Tamayo, and Arizmendi Maja alike. No matter the money the Infantes and Revueltas of the world offered her, she turned their orders away like an adulteress from a convent. It was during these times that she was thankful the charlatan standing before her had never so much as given a passing glance to her wares.

"Your great-great grandson?" The tone of his voice was almost as annoying as the slight smirk that played across his face. "Señora, I am afraid that I do not know of whom you speak."

"Miguel." She gritted her fists. "Miguel Rivera!"

Her spirit guide had led her here, a companion so faithful that she could trust the beast as easily as she did the convictions in her own heart. The alebrije had never failed her before.

His eyes widened, though the rest of his face remained unchanged. "Tell me of this boy..." He rubbed at his chin. "Is there something strange about him?"

"What are you implying?" This time she didn't stop herself from leaning down and reaching a hand towards her right foot.

"Oh, truly nothing rude. Still, can you call this child _bony_?"

She could have lunged forward right then and there, her fists held forward. Throughout life and into death, her calloused, sure hands had always aided her. Knowing the type of man de la Cruz was, perhaps more intimately than she preferred, he wouldn't so much as flinch in defense if she rushed forward.

When no reply came, Ernesto spoke again. "Do you mean the living boy my partygoers so avidly discussed this evening?"

"Where is he?" She stepped forward, her metal soled boots clicking against marble with each step, her index finger pointing accusedly. "If you have done anything to that boy I'll-"

"You'll what? Reminensce about it at our sudden family reunion?" Ernesto scoffed. Looking down, he wiped a few marigold pedals from his pants. "If you're looking to send him back home, I saved you the trouble." He smiled again. "No need to say gracias."

-

Victoria had expected Imelda to strike like a lioness on its prey. Instead, she had fled like a wounded antelope with its tail between its legs.

In all her life, she had never seen the woman like this before. Not when hard times hit and shoes became second to finding food, nor when she lay ill, gasping for breath on her death bed.

It was as though the spark inside her had been stifled, and she was struggling to set herself back alight. All throughout the night and on into the morning, as sunlight spilled through the manor's windows, she uttered no more than ten words. No one - not her, the twins, Julio, or Dios himself could get anything else from her. Her family, which she held together so tightly, no longer could catch her gaze. If this was truly death, Imelda was the only one who could be called a ghost.

Even if she had been interested in marrying, as ridiculous as the idea seemed to Victoria, Imelda would have judged her beau without even a grain-sized drop of mercy. Her family was not an elite club to be bought into, nor a cathedral with ever open doors. Whoever entered had to meet her absolute approval, a task even Atlas would have struggled with.

Victoria's own loves, strong dames in their own right, never could have done such, if only by right of birth. How Papa Julio somehow came in was still a mystery whispered between holiday dinners.

These thoughts bit at her heels like hungry dogs. Even if she crossed the entire city, for once empty of pedestrians, she could not escape them.

With that in mind, she turned around, heading back down the street. The stadium still lay some kilometers ahead, but she dared not go further lest a faint guitar note be carried down the wind. With any luck, the streets would again fill in a few hours.

-

Hector held his hat against his chest like a life preserver. His photo was still secure in his pocket, but he dared not look at it. Whatever was printed on it was clearly not worth remembering, it seemed, at least if the golden hint around his body was any indication.

**Author's Note:**

> I mean, you have more than one great-great grandfather.
> 
> Also, Tia Victoria is a lesbian. I don't make the rules, I just enforce them.
> 
> I definitely have more fic ideas for this fandom. *Twirls moustache*


End file.
